Crush
by marianna
Summary: This was written for the MixNMatch ficathon over at livejournal. It's a Young!Beav story, in which you learn about the first girl he ever fell in love with.


She was the first girl you'd ever liked. It was 6th grade, and for the first time since you could remember, you were out of Dick's shadow-he'd failed the 3rd grade and had only been one grade ahead, instead of two for the past 3 years and had effectively made your elementary school existence an extra year of awful. You'd _thought_ once he was gone, people would forget that Dick was your brother; forget the nickname that he'd branded you with at the age of 3. And after an entire year without him, you'd thought you were prepared. You'd walked into Neptune Junior High School with your head held high…with hope coursing through your veins.

It didn't last for very long. Even though 7th grade classes were two flights away on the 2nd floor corridor, you'd hadn't known that Dick was in remedial reading 1, which was just down the hall from your advanced Algebra class. You'd never forgotten the moment when Dick finally knew it too. Your life had been hell from that day on. But then _she'd_ entered the room, your first study hall, with a note from the office for one of the other students, and suddenly everything changed. She was an 8th grader and just about the prettiest girl you'd ever seen, with long brown braids and the beginnings of a strain on her tight white t-shirts. You'd liked her after she smiled at you in the hallway, lusted after her after seeing her dance in her plaid pink mini skirt, and had fallen in love after you'd spotted her tirelessly running the track, obviously determined to be the best and the brightest, not letting anything stand in her way. You knew you didn't have a chance-she was an older woman, smart and sophisticated, and you were only Dick Casablancas' little brother, the pasty weak one…but you could dream. And dream you did, at least until you saw Dick walking with her one day after school, her bright blue backpack slung over his shoulder, and it was the very first time your heart broke. You were furious with Dick-Dick the handsome one, Dick the funny one and now apparently Dick, Carrie Bishop's boyfriend.

It was July before you actually spoke to her. A year had past from when you had first fallen in love, and now she was off to high school in a month, you'd known your chance with her was gone-that you'd never really had one to begin with, and you while you weren't really surprised, it hurt that you wouldn't get to see her smile anymore. You'd woken up that morning-the one that would inevitably come to define your very existence (for at _least_ the next three years), and you knew-you just knew something was different. Something good. The house was quiet, which could only mean one thing: you were alone. Most 12-year-olds didn't relish the thought, but you could think of nothing more exciting than spending the day without Dick's overbearing presence. So you'd walked out of your room in just your pajama bottoms and the ratty gray bathrobe Lilly Kane had bought Dick for his 9th birthday-the one he'd grown out of after 5 minutes, the only thing he'd ever given you. You didn't bother washing your face or brushing your teeth-daily habits you almost steadfastly adhered to, and were prepared to spend the morning poring over your latest acquisition: The Ultimate Star Wars Guide. It was heavy and thick, and was exactly the thing you wanted to fall into on such a lazy summer day. But then there she was, sitting easily on the couch as if she'd been doing it forever-and with a start you realize she has been, or well, for a couple of months at least.

"Hi, Beaver." She says, smiling, and you can't help but gulp as she settles further and you realize that she's wearing her plaid pink mini skirt. The anthology slips out from your fingers, making a louder thud than you could have imagined, and if possible your cheeks get redder.

"C-C-Carrie." You resist the urge to close your eyes in agony at your stutter, but she seems not to notice as she smiles at you. "What are you doing here?" A complete sentence yes, but you notice her cringe, and beads of sweat explode on your forehead.

"Your brother…" Her voice trails off, and she looks anywhere but in your eyes. You can see tears forming in her own, and you're ready to kill Dick for putting them there. "Your brother was supposed to meet me." Her voice is soft, her eyes downcast, and though she's bathed in loveliness, you still can't help but wondering why she's sitting there. In you house.

"Um, Okay…" You hate yourself for being so inarticulate, but you can barely remember your name when she's in the room, let alone sitting a few inches away from you on the couch.

"And he didn't show up. He didn't call. I think he's trying to break up with me." A surge of anger rushes through you, and if it were any other girl, you wouldn't be surprised. But this is Carrie. Carrie Bishop-the most beautiful girl in the world, you can't imagine how anyone would want to-would be _able_ to leave her. But you've never been able to understand your brother very well. You pat her arm awkwardly, and her fingers slip over yours. "Thanks, Beaver." She smiles tightly, and you want to say something deep, meaningful. Something that will really make her feel better but you can't think with her touching you. "I should-I should definitely go. I'm so sorry to have just barged in like this, but your screen door was open, and I figured…Dick'll have to come out _some_time." She laughs slightly, her smile self-deprecating as she rubs the back of her neck.

"I-I'm sorry, Carrie. My brother…he's a jerk." She smiles at you then, leaning in close. So close in fact that you can smell her burnt marshmallow lip-gloss. Her lips brush softly against your cheek, and she's gone before you can do anything. You vow to never wash your face again.


End file.
